


Under A Desert Sky

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Emotional vomit, M/M, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always say 'you can cut the tension with a knife'. This is what happens when you do.</p>
<p>Dean has spent the last good while yelling at Sam for not looking for him. Sam tells him why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under A Desert Sky

The boys have already ridden a tense 500 miles. They both have something to say, but neither wants to be the first to say it.

So they wait. 

Every so often, Sam will open his mouth and take a breath. But a quick glance at Dean and his white knuckled grip on the wheel cuts him off. Almost an hour later, Dean turns to him and is silenced by one of the strongest bitch faces he’s ever seen. 

The road slips by, long and straight as the Impala hurtles across the desert. 

Dean finally breaks the silence. Sam almost misses the tiny voice entirely.

“Did you even want to look for me?” 

Sam is stunned into silence for a few more minutes. Brushes his hair out of his face with a quick, jerky movement. 

“Dean, I wanted to look for you every day. You gotta believe that. But... When you and Cas disappeared.. I-I had no leads. No idea where you were. If you were even... anywhere. You and Cas were gone, Kevin was gone. I’ve never been that alone in my life. You, Cas, Kevin, Bobby, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Jess... Everyone I have ever known or loved is dead or missing. And it’s not like we’re best friends with any other hunters. I just. I don’t know. I shut down. It was easier to just pretend I was starting over than it was to DEAL with all that. You’ve protected me for my entire life and that was gone. It made me feel... naked. Completely and utterly naked and alone and scared. I’ve been afraid of the monsters we hunt, sure. But I’ve never been that SCARED before in my life. EVER. Every other time that something like this has happened, you’ve been there. Now it happened to you and there was no one else. You’re all I have. You’re all I had. And I was scared. So I covered up with the first thing I could find. So yeah. I wanted to look for you. But every idea I came up with just felt like salt in the wound. I couldn’t HANDLE it. For your sake... For your sake, I hoped you really were dead. Really dead. It was the only way I could sleep at night. Thinking that you were dead and in heaven. I thought... I thought maybe you and Cas... had finally escaped.” 

Sam picked up speed as he spoke. Stumbles over his words. Tongue tied over all that’s been left unsaid since Dean came back. But once he gets the floodgates open, it all comes pouring out. Ugly and fast, and damnit he can’t help the fat hot tears that just start rolling down his face. They splatter onto his shirt and in his lap and Dean stops the car, right there in the middle of the lane, and just looks at his brother. REALLY looks at him. The whole year down there, and ever since he got back, all he could think was ‘Sam didn’t look for me’. He let himself burn with the anger and betrayal. But he never once thought about it from Sam’s point of view. Sam doesn’t remember the time before their mother died. Sam’s memories start and end with Dean. He knows this better than anyone else. Hell, Dean’s own memories start and end with Sam. Dean was his first word, his first steps were towards him, he always brought his report cards home to Dean, his homework was checked over by Dean, he asked Dean how to shave, hung his head and that damn shaggy hair in embarrassment when his body started changing and he didn’t know what was going on. Everything has been Dean. His whole world, wrapped up in one person. And then that was gone. For the first time in his life, his baby brother was all alone. Truly alone. 

And Dean has spent the last year and some just cursing his brother’s name. Treating him less than human.

He bites his lip until he tastes blood and turns his head away. He can’t look at Sam right now. Sam and his guilt and heartache and tears. He knows that Sam was wrong to not look for him. He was gone too long to NOT be looked for. But he also has to admit that Sam was right to try and keep living the best way he could find. The thought of him going to dirty motel room after dirty motel room, alone and hurt at the end of a hunt. Trying to stitch up a gash that’s just a little out of reach. Drinking alone. Eating alone. Researching alone, no one to ‘hey, get this’ when he found something. Climbing into a cold bed at the end of the day and waking up to thin morning light filtering through a gap in heavy rented curtains. That’s not the life he wants for him. As much as it pains him to admit, he’d rather Sam did what he did. Find a real home, with a real person, someone who isn’t as fucked up as he is. 

He finally turns back and faces Sam. He’s met with those expectant puppy dog eyes, still bright with unshed tears. He sniffles a bit and catches his lower lip gently between his teeth. It’s too much for Dean to take. Sam looking so vulnerable and broken, and looking to Dean for support, for guidance on what happens next in this messed up conversation. One they shouldn’t even be having. Not right now. Not in the middle of nowhere, with no escape from each other.

With a rustle of leather and a flash of teeth, Dean’s thrown the door open and jumped out. Sam watches, his heartbeat stilled to nothing. He expected SOMETHING from his older brother, but not.. Not silence. Not this. Why was Dean taking all this emotional bullshit? Like he was thinking it over, taking it in. Dean doesn’t do emotions. Dean does guarded walls and alcohol and fists. Sam opens his door and starts to get out, but Dean whirls around a points a finger at him. His eyes are dark and burn in the setting sunlight. 

“Don’t you DARE get out of the fucking car, Sam.” 

And with wide eyes, he sits back down and obeys his brother. He thought he knew fear when Dean was gone. But this is different. He’s only been this... intense... on a few other occasions, and he knows he’s volatile. So he watches as Dean stands perfectly still, and slowly tilts his face to the sky. He knows Dean’s ‘I’m struggling with something huge inside me’ mood when he sees it. 

Dean is indeed struggling, a new realization hitting him. It hits him, hard and final as a sledgehammer, why he’s so upset about Sam not looking for him. 

Sam doesn’t love him. Not how Dean apparently loves him. He fought every day to get out of Purgatory, to get back to Sam. Find the angel, find the brother. The two missing pieces to his puzzle. 

He is in love with his brother, and his brother did not even look for him. Dean knows he’s a fucked up son of a bitch, but he never thought it was this bad. He thinks back over their lives, trying to pinpoint when it happened. All he gets is a mashup of memories. Sam coming home with a busted lip and bruised knuckles, the swell of pride in Dean’s chest as Sam chatters on about how he defended some poor schmuck from a bully and won. Seeing Sam fall down the first time he rides a bike without training wheels, how his tears stop before they even get started when he sees how Dean’s running over to him. A giant smile as Dean helps him gussy up for prom with some nameless girl. His father handing a swaddled Sam to him as his world burns, and tells him to take him outside right now and don’t look back. And Dean ran. His mother’s screams echoing in his ears until it’s replaced by his father’s heartbreak and rage. 

He opens his eyes to a purple sky. The sun is nearly gone, and he’s not sure how long he’s been standing there. Turning back to the car, he sees his Sammy. So still. Just holding his hands in his lap and hanging his head. Dean’s heart breaks. He did this to him. All of the pain and suffering Sam has ever felt has been because of Dean. Slowly, one step at a time, he makes his way back to the car. The movement catches Sam’s attention and he looks up, dark circles forming under his eyes. Dean carefully ducks into the car and sighs. A hurried puff of air that hangs between them. He extends a hesitant hand and rests it on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Sam... Sammy... I’m sorry.” Those are the only words that’ll come. Of everything he wants to say, feels and wants to express... He just can’t get out more than those two little words. Sam chuckles harshly, flicks his hair out of his face. 

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who fucks things up all the time. I’m a flight risk. All I do is run away any chance I get. I ran to Stanford and I ran when I came back from Hell, and... I ran when you needed me most. I couldn’t face the possibility of losing you, so I gave up before I even started. So don’t be sorry, Dean. I’m the one who let you down. And you’re stuck dealing with my shit because of it. So what do you have to be sorry about?” Sam can’t even look at him. He’s speaking to the dirty floorboards, his worn shoes toeing at a small rock. It strikes Dean how small he looks right then. Folded in on himself, a fraction of his size and power. His hand is still planted heavily on Sam’s shoulder. He slides it up to the collar of his shirt. Balls the thin material into his fist and pulls his brother in. A harsh, awkward clash of lips and teeth and Dean is kissing him. Sam stares, shocked and still, at the blur of his brother’s face. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he leans into it.

Something in him needs this. Needs this contact and reaffirmation that they’re still here. They’ve lost each other so many times over the years. So much death and destruction and chaos. They each sink into the warmth of the other, rushed hands urging and pulling and saying I’m alive I’m alive I’m alive. Sam licks at the tender spot on his brother’s lip, tastes a hint of blood where he bit through. Runs his hand up to his shoulder, palms over the side of his neck and jaw before dropping it to Dean’s heart. He stills the kiss and just feels the beat under his palm. When he glances up, Dean’s eyes are closed and he’s sitting so very still. 

“Dean... I don’t know what to make of this.” Sam’s body is still angled toward his brother, but he drops his hand back to his lap. Dean takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Ain’t gonna lie, dude. As fucked up as it is, I want this. I think I’ve wanted it for a long time.” He waits for the fallout. For Sam to pull away and the distance to grow between them. Venturing a glance at Sam, he only sees a small smile spread across his lips. 

“I think I’ve wanted this for a long time too.”


End file.
